Goals, Pet Rants, and You are SOOOOO Not the Father

Goals, Pet Rants, and You are SOOOOO Not the Father

I’m only six days into September, and I’m already behind. This “goals” stuff is hard!
I’ve been writing long hand in pencil, and now I have a backlog of paper scraps that are supposed to be typed in and organized, at some point.
On the bright side, I have posts scheduled in advance for a couple of days in September, and as long as I keep writing on the scheduled days, I’ll end the month with a nice cushion of posts.

For some reason presumptive paternity came up on Twitter.
Oh, all right.
For some reason, I brought up presumptive paternity on Twitter.
I am not a fan of presumptive paternity, and I’m especially not a fan of the fact that despite the availability of modern paternity testing, we keep expanding presumptive paternity to more and more situations.
I could rant about it, but let’s just say that it’s one of those outdated laws that saves committed couples twelve seconds of paperwork and causes some massive problems for other people. You can google it, and I’ll shut up, now.
The novel I’m working on now features a polyandrous society with contractual paternity.
A child’s “father” is the man the mother thinks is best suited for raising children. Usually, he’s one of her older husbands, but she’s free to choose her brother, some other relative, or a nifty gay friend.
It’s a system that acknowledges that the skill set involved in creating a child is not the same skill set involved in raising it.
The end result is that by giving the mother options–even if she’s young, reckless, and too drunk to work a condom–the child is wanted.
It’s not a huge part of my novel, but it’s there, in the background somewhere.
I know. Weird cause for the non-procreatively oriented. I’m not even sure if there are any children in my novel.
But I do think that children deserve better than to be caught in the middle of some bizarre parenting chain match. And the worst-case scenarios? Well, some of them are weird enough to keep men and women up at night.
So, what about you? Any hidden rants in your fiction?